@royalrite
Light has long since ceased streaming through the open window at his back, and the warm glow casting the sharp planes of his face into shadow is instead provided by a nearby lamp. The soft color brings a new vigor into the paleness of his hands as the distinct crinkle of the page of a book being turned is heard -- a silly fantasy novel. A choice of pleasure rather than obligation or necessity.
Ignis’ long legs are folded over one another, and though the hour is late he is still dressed in his slacks and dress shirt -- although the sleeves have been rolled up and the collar loosened. The wrinkles in the morning will be hell to undo, but Aulea is still awake, and there’s a sort of apprehension to allowing her too much time alone at night.
He isn’t staying awake to bother her, merely to keep her company, as quiet and demure as it may be.
It has been quite some time since either of them have shared words with each other, but Ignis truthfully doesn’t mind the silence as she lounges on a bean bag across from him, nose buried in her phone.
A glance at his watch tells him that it’s nearly 23:30, which is absolutely an unreasonably late hour for him. Aulea seems unperturbed by the late hour -- having only seemed to tense more when the two kingsglaive sent along with them had retreated to their own, smaller cabin. Something Ignis could not help but notice, miffed and anxious about her fidgeting since they’ve been alone together.
His initial thought is perhaps that she’s developed feelings for him and has convinced herself that tonight he should know about it, something which has not quelled his own apprehension -- for a confession of that nature will result in a conversation he’s not keen to have.
Instead of bothering her, he simply glances at her over the rim of his glasses and the corner of his book.
